


Always Here For You

by alassenya



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sidney Crosby Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alassenya/pseuds/alassenya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too much change at once is enough to make anyone panic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Here For You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Midnight Snack](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1866780) by [v_greyson (greyson)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyson/pseuds/v_greyson). 



> A few days ago, v_greyson invented the tag "Sidney Crosby needs a hug" and I thought I'd make a contribution.

Sidney took a deep breath and tried to control the rising tide of panic. It was the first day of free agency and he was reeling.

In the last month, his team had changed more personnel than at any time since he'd been a Penguin, and he was having difficulty coming to terms with it. He'd worked hard, over the years, to overcome his dislike of change, inevitable as it was in the NHL, but this was too much, too fast, and he wanted to curl up in a safe place and hide until it was all over.

Shero, Bylsma, Granato, Reirdon all gone ... yeah, that was a lot to adjust to. Training and plays were going to change significantly. But he'd adapted to new coaches before; he could do it again.

Then Nealer was traded to the Predators -- and OK, he was more Geno's friend than Sid's, but at least Sid knew him and knew how he played. He didn't know Hornqvist or Spaling, but he was prepared to work with them and build a good forward line.

The free agency frenzy, though -- that was a much bigger shock than he had expected. Losing Brooks Orpik and Matt Niskanen to the Capitals was bad enough, then Deryk Engelland went to the Flames, Jussi to the Panthers, Joe to the Coyotes and Tanner to the Rangers. Six core players, scattered to the winds ... and that was only day one.

If Flower was traded, he might just have a nervous breakdown.

He took another breath and told himself firmly that Flower was staying. Rutherford had signed a back-up goalie, not a starting goalie. Flower was staying.

But what if ...?

With every passing moment, he was more and more thankful for Geno and his eight-year extension. At least there was one constant in his life, one person who would be there until he retired. Probably. Unless Geno changed his mind and wanted to move somewhere else, away from Pittsburgh ... or got married to a nice Russian girl who wanted to stay there ... or started adopting Russian orphans who weren't allowed to leave the country ... or finally decided that tax-free millions were a good reason to move back home.

No. He was not going to think about that. Geno had promised him he would stay, and he trusted Geno to keep his word. He did.

He just wished Geno was here, with his warm, solid, comforting presence. He could face anything if he had Geno.

But Geno was in Russia, enjoying his holiday, and Sid was definitely not going to call him or text him or do anything that might make Geno feel he had to come back, because he would; Sidney knew he would come back if he asked him to, and that was at once a prospect enticing and horrifying. Geno deserved his break, he'd had an awful year and he deserved to be happy with his friends and family, away from Pittsburgh and the team and Sidney and all the emotional turmoil than went with them.

Geno deserved to be happy, even if that meant that Sidney was on his own.

He could get through this on his own. He was almost 27 years old, he was finally living on his own and he could do this. He could. He just had to control himself, get on top of his emotions and act like the captain he'd been for seven years.

Not for the first time, he wished that he really was the hockey robot everyone accused him of being. Robots didn't have emotions, they didn't get upset or say the wrong thing or feel like the world was going to end just because of team changes everyone had seen coming a mile away.

But he wasn't a robot and, try as he might, he couldn't switch off his emotions.

Finally, when he accepted that the coil of panic in his gut wasn't going to go away just because he told it to, he reached for the phone.

It was late and the rink was closed, but if there was one thing he never minded using his name for, it was getting ice time. As he had hoped, the rink manager was more than happy to let him in after hours, as long as he locked up afterwards.

Sidney sighed in relief, and grabbed the car keys.

Things were always better on the ice. Being alone stopped being lonely when he was on the ice. Everything else faded out, leaving only the cool air and the hiss of a blade as it glided over the surface, calm and serene.

He stayed there for hours, going through all his drills and then doing laps around the rink, letting his mind drift, just enjoying the smoothness of the movement. It was as close as he ever got to meditation, and much more enjoyable.

It was nearly midnight when he let himself out and drove home, calmer and more in control than he'd been the last couple of days. He ate and went to bed, hoping that he would feel better the next morning, but it proved to be in vain. His sleep was troubled by dreams and nightmares, visions of being left alone on the ice to face a horde of enemy payers, of being berated by the new coach for failing to carry the whole team, of being shunned by his teammates for not being Superman.

He woke in a damp sweat and went through his morning exercise routine with a dogged determination that belied his underlying turmoil.

When the doorbell rang around lunchtime, he wondered idly who it was. He hadn't had any messages, but then he'd turned off his phone and left it upstairs to avoid the temptation of nervously checking the NHL trade and agency trackers every five minutes.

He opened the door and his jaw dropped.

Geno was there -- standing in front of him, bag by his side.

"Geno!" It was less of a shout and more of a choked-off whisper, but Geno heard him anyway, and then stepped forward, holding out his arms and enveloping Sid in the warmest, tightest, most welcome hug he'd ever had.

He didn’t dare speak for at least a minute, in case it was all a hallucination. He wrapped his arms around Geno's waist, turning his head so that it rested on Geno's shoulder, inhaling deeply. He reeked of sweat and fatigue, of airports and cars and worry. It didn't matter: it was Geno. Geno was there, with him, in Canada.

He could actually feel his heartbeat slowing and his blood pressure dropping as he stood there, absorbing Geno's warmth and strength and the sheer miracle of his presence.

He finally forced himself to ask, "What are you doing here?"

Geno shrugged. "I heard news. Knew you would be upset."

"You flew back from Russia for me?"

Geno didn't answer -- well, not in words, but the slight tightening of his arms was all Sidney needed to feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want you to cut your holiday short."

"Best part was over, anyway. I saw my parents, had fun with friends. Was thinking about you, missed you, then saw news. Knew you would feel bad. Want to help."

"I'm coping."

Geno pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye. "When you last sleep?"

"I slept last night!" When faced with a look of patent disbelief, he admitted, "But I didn't sleep well. Bad dreams."

Geno's hand pushed back a stray curl from Sidney's forehead, and Sidney moved almost unconsciously into the touch. Geno smiled and did it again, letting his fingers comb through Sidney's hair -- soft and curly and free of any type of product, since he hadn't been expecting to see anyone -- and it felt so good he almost groaned.

"Shh," Geno murmured. "I make sure you sleep well tonight."

"Just -- just don't go."

"I'm here, Sid. Never leave you. Always here for you."

Sidney nodded, and tightened his arms again, feeling Geno do the same. He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help feeling pleased that Geno had rushed to his side. He felt complete now; able to handle anything. Rutherford and Johnston could trade the entire team around him and he'd make it work.

He had Geno. Nothing else mattered.


End file.
